


B: Breath

by XX_CALIBRE



Series: Pykja Vænt Um [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27699170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_CALIBRE/pseuds/XX_CALIBRE
Summary: Did he truly deserve Valhalla?
Relationships: Eivor/Vili
Series: Pykja Vænt Um [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024777
Kudos: 35





	B: Breath

**Author's Note:**

> _Spoiler Warning : Minor Character Death_

Eivor lost his parents when he was nine winters along. Nine winters young. Nine winters pure. He could have had the childhood he wished for, but it was taken. In an instant. Eivor is 26 winters along when he lost his friends. His _truest_ friends.

Now, Kjotve was dead. Gorm, Fulke was dead… the Order of Ancients, dead. Yet he wishes they suffered. He wishes to watch them suffer. Bleed out dry as his axe rips through their flesh. Eivor knew there was no amount of violence that could compare to his anger.

Really, not even the Blood Eagle was enough. They did not deserve such a glorious death to begin with. Helheim did not deserve such worthless bacrauts. They deserve to lie in wait. In darkness. In isolation. Alone. Forever.

As his time being Jarl passed, Eivor’s heart, too, sank further. Did he truly deserve Valhalla? Or did he, too, deserve a bath of black? That is the vision he had. Each day. Each night. Were all the deaths necessary to the cause? Was all the fighting worth the cause? Were his decisions the right ones?

Gone he was becoming, falling down the little rabbit hole. Chasing unrealistic dreams. Chasing true lies. Chasing the worthy dead.

“Eivor.” Vili Hemmingson, appearing at his doorway with a look only a best friend—a lover could recognise. Hurt. Loss. Worry. His eyebrows tied to a knot, his shoulders square, and his eyes are red with a bloodlust. His skin is pale. Does it feel cold under the touch? Could Eivor’s hand pass through skin, flesh, and bone?

Did he lost Vili, too— “Stop.” Vili’s warm when his hands cups Eivor’s face. Vili’s warm when his lips presses against Eivor’s own. His eyes are bright and they are shining with _life_. “I’m still here. I’m still with you, Eivor.”

  
  



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